Ankyra Sound Life, Death, Religion, Survival.

He still carried the dimming scent of the westward mire, with half a mind to douse himself in the sea to clean it away. Having never been particularly invested in his looks as far as he could remember, this was a minor shift; perhaps it had something to do with his introduction to his supposed sister. He could wash that experience away and never think on it again - pledge himself to Rusalka and the sea witch as if it never happened. Or he could let it linger. He could think. He could ask questions even if they seemed so foul; hold on to that memory of the swamp as if it were a raft and do his best not to sink away from it.

When Caiaphas came upon him he was lost in thought. Feeling curious, quarrelsome, conflicted. She was silent save for the crunching of the sand beneath her spry body and together they lingered, until Firefly felt more at peace, then he spoke to her without taking his eyes from the sea.

There is a family living in the far west. A young woman with golden fur and a fierce attitude. While I was away I encountered her and she said she knew you. He didn't reveal her name immediately, and wasn't sure why he withheld it. Whether Caiaphas knew the woman or not wasn't really an issue - what mattered was the woman's spoken claim. Does she ring a bell?